The Facts Are These: Season 3
by TheYummyPencil
Summary: Picks up where Season 2 was so cruelly cut off. Telling the untold tales of Chuck and her aunts, Ned and Olive, Emerson and Lil' Gum Shoe, Charles Charles and Papa Pie Maker. Not to mention Dwight Dixon, Randy Mann and The Intrepid Cow...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So I finally got round to watching the last season of the bestest show EVA :p I think I put it off for so long because I could not cope with it being over. But hey, there are still so many stories left to tell. And until the comic comes out I want to help tell them :)**

**Hope you enjoy! Please do read and review...**

**Disclaimer: Pushing Daisies belongs to the awesomeness that is Bryan Fuller and co.  
><strong>

**The Facts Are These**

**Chapter 1: A Moment of Your Time**

At this very moment, Vivian Charles had been unconscious for exactly 13 seconds. Her sister Lillian, usually charged with catching her when she fell (in the physical as well as emotional sense), did nothing to help. Instead she stood staring at the girl on her porch, a girl whose trembling hands clutched daisies, whose big brown Bambi eyes held tears, and whose face bore a striking resemblance to another girl...a girl named Chuck.

"Wha...?" Lillian exhaled, feeling faint. "What is this?"

"Aunt Lily," the girl said, inhaling shakily. "It's me."

"_...no_," she muttered, dizziness disorienting her as she turned on the Pie Maker. "Ned? What the hell is this? Is this some kind of _joke?_"

"_Huh?_" the boy uttered, as if surprised that she could see him. "_No_. It's- Lily, it's true. It's Chuck. She's alive. She's...been alive."

Lily rocked on her heels, wondering vaguely where the floor went. "I am _so_ sorry, Mum..." was the last thing she heard before the world tipped over and she stumbled into space...

**XXX**

At this very moment, Olive Snook was exactly where she wanted to be. Digby the dog lay at her feet, Randy the taxidermist sat at her side, and pumpkin the pie crumbled beneath her fork. For the first time in a long time she felt certain, still, safe in the knowledge that she had found her place...

But the warm fuzzy feeling faded fast as the Pie Hole doors swung open, ushering in a chill. Ned stood staring at her and Olive began to feel as if her bare naked toes were sticking out of the contentment comforter.

"What's the word, hummingbird?" she chirped, falsely cheery.

"Could I...?" he started, approaching their booth. "Could we talk for a minute?"

"Sure. Give us the dish, tuna fish."

His eyebrows knit as he slid into the opposite seat. "Alone? Sorry, Randy. Official detective business."

"_Oh_," the well-meaning Mr Mann uttered uncertainly. "I- I could help with that."

"This is a pretty personal case," said Ned, wincing apologetically. "Could you just...we _really_ need to talk."

His eyes flickered to Olive and the urgency in them prompted her to act. "Randy, be a dear and pop another pie in the oven," she said, bedazzling him with a megawatt smile. A smile that could, as Buster once told her, fill in for the Hollywood sign on weekends. "Customers will probably want a refill on that sweet potato."

Randy nodded, a vaguely dazed expression hovering over his face, and got up. As soon as he was gone Ned leaned forward. "_The cat has flown the coop_."

"...say what?"

The Pie Maker blinked. "Did I get that wrong? Is it- what is it when the truth gets told? The chicken is out of the bag? Or the pigeon-? Oh, god!" he groaned, covering his face. "My brain is short-circuiting."

"Hey, hey, hey," she said quickly. "Breathe. Refocus. Stop speaking in idioms."

Obediently, Ned exhaled, closed his eyes and started over at a slow steady pace. "They know. Lily and Vivian know Chuck is alive."

Olive gasped and gaped. "Whaaaat?_ How?_"

"We went to the house. With flowers and champagne. In hindsight it might have been a better idea to _call_, as opposed to turning up unannounced with her dead daughter."

"Well, duh doi!" Olive squeaked indignantly. "How did they take it?"

"First they passed out. And then they freaked out. There was crying and yelling and hugging and all these _questions_..."

"Pfft! Can you blame 'em? The whole faking your death thing is highly questionable. I still have a query or three of my own..."

"It was too intense," he carried on, as if she did not speak. "I had to leave. And Chuck let me...but now I feel like a bad boyfriend." The Pie Maker planted his mournful face on the table and it was all Olive could do to keep from reaching across and running her fingers through his hair. Bad habits died hard...

"So...why now? What changed?"

"Her mind. She wants...she needs her family. And I couldn't deny her that. Even though...even though it means I have to share her now." He looked up, dark eyes watching Olive worriedly. "Is that selfish? I tried to put her happiness first but...am I selfish for wanting to keep her to myself?"

Olive Snook sighed, wishing that she could redirect her wayward heart; turn it towards Randy Mann and away from Ned, so that all this talk of Chuck would not hurt so profoundly. But love and lust were badly behaved beings, ricocheting through her without rhyme or reason. And no contentment comforter could cover up her desire to be more than his friend...

"You're not selfish. You're human. People always want what they can't have."

The weight of the words pressed down on them both as their eyes met once more and-

"_Guys!_" Randy whisper-screamed over the counter. "I think your oven is on fire!"

**XXX**

At this very moment, Emerson Cod felt restless. With yet another case closed, his co-workers otherwise occupied and his lady love away, the PI was left to dwell on thoughts of the little girl that had been stolen from him. Seeing his daughter, alive and well, had been like a dab of ointment on an inflamed itch. But the relief was only temporary and Emerson now needed something, anything else to immerse himself in...

Three portions of chicken chow mein later, Cod sat waiting to slip into a gastronomically induced coma. As his leaded eyelids drooped down, a slight skittering caught his ear. Emerson grunted, eyes creaking open, and peered over his desk. On the floor, from under the door, lay a brown envelope.

The PI stood slowly, eyeing the door for any signs of life behind it as he approached.

Upon investigating the contents of the delivery, Cod found neither money nor a note. Instead there was a picture of three men, staring out from a desert landscape. Two of them were vaguely familiar, their features sparking something in his subconscious. But the third he knew...he indubitably _knew_ to be none other than...

Dwight Dixon.

**A/N: Dun dun duuun! I dunno if this is canon, but in one of the first pages of the comic previewed online, Emerson, Ned and Chuck were going to the cemetery with a picture of Dwight, Papa Pie Maker and Charles Charles. So this is where I speculate on what really went down with the Blue Berets. Any ideas and suggestions from you would be appreciated mucho! **

**Another one of the many plot threads left hanging was Nolive. Bryan Fuller seemed to be playing with the idea of them ("I wouldn't say never" and Ned's "jealousy") but they had to drop it due to the cancellation. This is a wrong that I must right! Ned and Chuck are amazeballs, no doubt, but when he confessed to being concerned about losing her to Lily and Vivian, she did not reassure him. Not sure if that was foreshadowing, but I like to think so... **

**So yeah. This is either going to be epic, or an epic fail. Either way I am enjoying it. Hope you are, too!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to my two readers and reviewers! JAS, I wanted to reply to your review directly but you disabled your private messaging? Anyway, just to clarify, the central romance is Nolive, but there will be a lot more going on around them :)**

**Chapter 2: Stranger Than Fiction**

Alive Again Avenger, Charlotte Charles sat sandwiched between her mother and aunt, smothered by their attention like a melted marshmallow between two toasted graham crackers. Never before, in her old life or new, had she felt so many conflicting feelings; joy at being with them, guilt at having left them, and fear of what the future would bring for their family, as somewhere in the world, another member of the Charles clan lived on.

But that revelation was best left for later. Or never...

"How...could you _do_ this to us?" Lily Charles spluttered for the 22nd time. She sat on the sofa, holding the hands of her once dead daughter so tightly they hurt.

"We mourned you for _months!_ " Vivian shouted, uncomfortably close to her ear.

Chuck floundered, feeling about fifteen years younger. "I am _so_ sorry."

Lily glared at the girl with her one good eye. "No. Sorry _ain't_ gonna cut it, kiddo. I want you to explain why – _how_ you could let us think that-" Here, she choked, hand rising to her mouth as she looked away.

Chuck felt her eyes brim and burn with tears. She wished that she could tell them everything; the Pie Maker and his gift, the caveat it came with, the immortality she had obtained as a result...

"They put you in your dress," Aunt Vivian murmured faintly, "and they put you in your coffin, and they put you in the ground. How did you-? Did Dwight Dixon dig you up? Were you alive down there, _all that time?_" Her voice was high, bordering on hysterical and Chuck grabbed her hands, squeezing reassuringly.

"_No_. No, I was out way before that. Ned got me out."

"But why...why fake your death in the first place?"

Ah. The $64, 000 question. Chuck had an answer for it, but it was barely anymore believable than the truth.

"I just...needed to start over. I needed space."

"So why didn't you _say?_" Vivian despaired.

"I...felt bad?"

"So you decided to make _us_ feel bad? Charlotte, if you had just run away it wouldn't have hurt one _tenth_ as much as believing you were _taken_ away by someone else. This doesn't make any _sense_."

"It doesn't," Lily snapped suddenly. "And in the wise words of Judge Judy: if it doesn't make sense it's probably not true. There is _something_ you are not telling us. The Shiny Shoes Killer killed you. He tried to kill _me_. And he threw you overboard. They fished you out of the water! The coroner _examined_ you. How could you possibly play dead during all that?"

Chuck's heart began to flutter fearfully. The more they talked about it the less plausible it seemed. Without Ned here for backup she felt cornered and confused...

"_Charlotte_," Lily murmured, reaching up to touch her cheek, "if we are ever going to be able to move on from this we need you to be honest. What really happened?"

The Formerly Lonely Tourist put a hand over her mother's, soaking up the tender touch, and sighed.

"_Ned_. Ned happened..."

**XXX**

24 hours, sixteen minutes and 42 seconds after the dramatic revelation of Chuck to her family, the Pie Maker paced. With his lover _and_ his partner in crime investigation away, it had been a quiet Sunday at the Pie Hole. Digby padded around the place with Pigby, as one of the last customers said goodbye and thank you for the pie.

Olive Snook waved absently, swivelling back round on the white leather stool. She placed her elbows on the cool clean countertop, nested her chin in her hands and watched Ned wander aimlessly.

"Worried about Chuck?"

"Hm?" He stopped, blinking blankly. "Oh. Yeah. I just-"

"Worried she might never come back?"

The Pie Maker winced, wondering when he became so transparent. Thankfully, the phone rang, and he was spared having to deny the intensity of his fears.

"Hello?"

"_Howdy, partner_."

Ned sighed, smiling slowly at the weary throaty voice of the girl named Chuck.

"How are you?"

"I am...so many things I can't even...Ned, they know."

"Who? Lily and Vivian? I know they know."

"No. They know...about your gift."

"About my-? oh. _Oh, god_."

"I know! I am _so _sorry-"

"No, don't be," he cut in quickly, wrapping an arm around his waist. "The truth may be stranger than fiction but it's better than lies. I understand."

"They don't. Lily doesn't want me around you without her permission and supervision. I tried to tell her how careful you've always been, but she's all paranoid and protective..."

"She sounds like your father," said Ned, shivering at the thought.

"Well, she _is_ my mother. And they are my parents and god it's all so _complicated_..."

"_I know_." They commiserated in silence for a while, before Ned decided to cut to the chase. Which, in his mind, meant dancing around the issue politely until someone like Emerson intervened. "So...will you be sleeping over again?"

"Yeah. Could you ask Olive to bring a few of my things?"

Olive...oh no. _Olive_. Ned glanced round to see her clearing tables, foregoing the chance to eavesdrop for once. Olive was officially the last to know.

"Okay," he said sadly. "Will do."

Chuck thanked him, making kissy noises before hanging up. Ned lingered a little longer before putting the phone down and turning to watch the waitress. She whistled while she worked, so dutiful and dedicated that he could not help but feel terrible. Emerson found out his secret, the Aunts found out his secret...maybe it was time he told someone of his own accord.

"Olive? I need to show you something..."

The last time they were in these woods it was Halloween and a ghostly horseman was on the loose. Nothing much had changed. Olive was still with him, the leaves still crackled underfoot and Ned was still scared, although for entirely different reasons...

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Am I annoying you? Are we there yet?"

They came to a clearing and stopped. She shrugged expectantly and he inhaled deeply.

"Olive, because I love you as a friend and respect you as a co-worker I feel that I can no longer keep you in the dark. You have earned the truth and nothing but the truth."

Ned got down on one knee, flashing back fleetingly to the day Eugene Mulchandani stumbled upon his secret in a similar way.

As she looked at him, Olive suffered something very similar to a stroke. "What are you-?"

"Look." The Pie Maker quickly picked a dead leaf from the ground and held it up to her. It turned a lush green before her eyes and Olive smiled, lowering herself delicately. "_Wow_. Neat trick. Did the twins teach you that?"

"It's not magic. At least...not that kind of magic."

"Then how did you do it?" she asked, plucking it from his fingertips.

"I..." Ned swallowed hard, as if to suppress his pounding heart. "It's what I do. Olive...I bring dead things back to life."

She stared at him for a while, assessing his sincerity, before snorting. "What, like a horticultural Jesus?"

"No, not like...okay, I know that this sounds insane, but both Chuck and Emerson can attest to the fact that I have...a gift. Ever since I brought Digby back-"

"Wait, what? You brought _Digby_ back? So this thing- this 'gift' isn't limited to plant life." He shook his head. "You can bring back animals. And people?" He nodded. "Oh, come on, Ned! How is that even possible? It just doesn't make any..." Olive Snook slowed, her mind finally catching up with her mouth as she realized that this was, in fact, the only thing that made sense. "_Jiminy Cricket. _You brought Chuck back. You...Chuck never faked her death. She _was_ dead. And you brought her back."

She stood slowly and the Pie Maker in turn staggered to his feet. He stared down at her dazed face, ready to catch her should she pass out. "Emerson knew what I could do for a while before Chuck died. He- we go to the morgue and bring people back so they can tell us who killed them. It is a...profitable partnership."

He tried for a wry smile but suspected it was more of a rictus. Olive looked away, taking a deep breath. "What's the catch?" she asked abruptly.

"The...the catch?"

"There has to be a _catch_, Ned," she said, stumbling off a little. "I dunno...some kind of...limit?"

"Oh. Uh...yes." Ned rubbed the back of his neck nervously as she turned to look at him. "The first touch brings dead things back to life. The second re-kills them. Forever." At this, she held up the leaf, disbelief darkening her eyes. Ned reached over and tapped it, whereupon it dried up and died.

He had hoped that this would answer all of her questions but Olive simply stared. And so, the Pie Maker began to ramble. "I didn't know any of this when I was a kid. I kind of had to learn the hard way. My mum...a blood vessel in her brain burst and she died. I brought her back...but I didn't know that it was a give and take thing. If I kept a human being alive for more than a minute someone nearby would die. And Chuck's dad, he lived next door... "

"Oh my- did he...?" Ned bowed his head, wondering if these revelations would be the death of their friendship. But the pitter-patter of little go-go boots, shattering dry leaves assured him that Olive was coming back, not going away. "_That's_ why you're so self-conscious about physical contact. That's why you never touch Digby. Or Chuck." She chuckled, but it sounded hollow. "_Allergies_. Can't believe I fell for that."

"You had to," he hastened to say. "The truth is just-"

"One more question," she cut in quietly. "Why did you lie to me for so long?"

Ned grimaced, not wanting to get into another discussion on the many days and ways in which she felt left out. "Ol, you may be missing the big picture."

Judging by the look on her face, this was exactly the wrong thing to say. "Gee, ya _think?_ This is not just a _big picture_, Ned. This is a mural on a mansion wall! This is the _Sistine Chapel_ of secrets and it is gonna take me longer than five minutes to see it in its entirety! So _excusez moi_ for focusing on the little things, the facts I can actually process right now!"

"All right, all right," he stammered, anxious in the face of her anger. "I- I get it. But, Olive, we just wanted to protect-"

"Oy vey, again with the protection! Ned, despite my diminutive size I do not _need_ protecting. And you know that. The _real_ reason you kept me out of the loop is because you _didn't _trust me."

"What? _No_. If I didn't trust you why would I be telling you?"

"Because you have no choice! _Chuck_ had to tell Lily and Vivian, right?"

"...yes," he conceded and Olive groaned, throwing her hands in the air.

"You know, Ned, I've had just about as much as I can take."

With that, she whipped round and walked away, blonde bob bobbing behind her. The Pie Maker stood stunned as he watched her disappear. What did she mean, 'just about as much as I can take'? Surely she could not be quitting again...

Could she?

**XXX**

Emerson Cod strolled into the Pie Hole, propelled by the purpose and possibility of a new case. A case unlike any other. A case that could- if they confirmed the identities of the men in the photograph- directly affect Ned and Chuck.

With this in mind it was understandable then that the PI felt more than a little disappointed to see Randy Mann manning the kitchen.

"What in the hell...?"

"Oh. Hey, Emerson! Ned and Olive asked me to fill in while they follow up on a case and Chuck visits her aunts."

"...what in the _hell!_"

**A/N: Yeah, Cod. Now you know how it feels to be out of the loop. But not for long :p Anyway, that chapter was lengthy but hopefully not boring! The pace will pick up once DD reappears and Nolive start to reassess their relationship...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay, this chapter is more of a marathon than a sprint so I understand if that puts you off :p I certainly struggle to read lengthy fics, never mind write them! But hopefully it will be worth it...  
><strong>

**Chapter 3: Gone In 60 Seconds **

Charles Charles was not wrong when he told Ned that his daughter preferred cake to pie. She had always liked the squidgy sponginess of the former more than the cool crust of the latter. So when Lily and Vivian offered a choice between leftover lemon meringue and fresh Black Forest Gateau, it took all of two seconds to make her mind up. And although there were no mood enhancers in this particular pastry, Chuck felt lighter and brighter as she ate it. This, she decided, was the natural high that came from love. If only she could bottle the overflow for those in need...

Just then the doorbell rang, interrupting her shiny happy thoughts. Chuck stood, holding a hand up to her mother and aunt.

"Don't worry, it's just Olive. I'll be right back."

With that she bounced out of the room, into the foyer and opened the door to a man best described as the exact opposite of Olive Snook.

"_Emerson_," said Chuck, smiling in surprise.

"_Mm-hm," _the PI harrumphed humourlessly, holding a photograph up to her face. "Is this who I think it is?"

Chuck grimaced at the person he was pointing to. "_Dwight_."

"And this?"

Here her eyes widened, welling with tears as she took it from him. "That...that's my Dad! And...Ned's?"

"Thought so." Cod gestured for her to join him on the porch and she obliged, closing the door quietly. "_Somebody_ gave this to me last night. No note, no money, no case apparently. Unless there's something we don't know about Dwight and yo daddies."

"There's a lot we don't know: what their relationship was like, why the watches were so important, how they all came to be in Egypt. I mean this _is_ Egypt, isn't it? Dad told me all sorts of stories about that place..."

"Well, he obviously gave you the _abridged_ version," said Emerson, plucking the picture from her fingertips and putting it in its envelope. "Because there is somethin' a lot deeper and darker goin' on here. '_Fortunately'_ for us, we have access to at least one Musketeer."

"...are you suggesting-?"

"Not suggesting, Undead Girl, _sayin'_. We dig up Dixon _tonight_. Now where the hell is Loverboy?"

She shrugged, holding herself against the watery chill in the air. "Last time I spoke to him he was at the Pie Hole with Olive."

"Not anymore he ain't. I went there lookin' for y'all and _Randy_ tells me you're here while they're workin' a case."

"What?"

"My thoughts exactly. By the way, when _the hell_ did you decide to come clean about-?"

The door swung open suddenly, derailing his train of thought. "_Chuck?_" Vivian called, her voice at a panicked pitch.

"Hey. I'm okay. It's just-"

"_Cod_," Lily grunted. "You have got _a lot _of explaining to do..."

The PI sighed and took off his hat, pressing it to his chest politely as he followed them into the house...

**XXX**

"Olive, _please_ let me in."

"...never."

"...you have my dog."

"Well, I _don't_ have your trust. _Or_ your loyalty. I think I deserve _Digby_ at least."

The Pie Maker sighed, deciding to change tack. "If you keep him then _I_ have to keep this gift I got y-"

He had barely finished his sentence before the door cracked ajar. Olive eyed him through the gap and grunted, "_Gift?_"

Ned bit back a smile. "_Open sesame_."

After a terse pause, the waitress relented. "What is it?"

He held out the flowers at arm's length and Olive wrinkled her nose. "_Original._"

"Well, they...they were dead. I brought them back for you and wrapped them in paper to protect them. Now they'll live forever."

"_...oh_," she mumbled, taking them from him. "Oh, wow. Oh...wait. What d'ya mean _live forever?_"

"Um..." Ned shoved his hands in his pockets. "Did I mention that the things I resurrect won't die a natural death as long as I don't touch them again?"

"...so you're telling me that Chuck and Digby are_ immortal?_"

"...pretty much, yeah."

"..."

"Ol-?"

"Okay," she said simply. "I'm just gonna act like I can accept that. And someday soon I will."

Ned nodded, not expecting her to be able to deal with everything as it came. Emerson had seen him bring people back and Chuck had been one of those people. All Olive got was plant life...

"Thank you," she said, holding up the breed of buttercup. "This is the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me."

Ned blushed. "I...have an unfair advantage." She laughed a little and he almost forgot why he was there. "Olive, don't quit, okay? Now more than ever I need you here."

"Why, so I can do all the grunt work? Mind the Pie Hole with Randy while the cool kids go off on adventures?"

"No. I don't mean for errands. But now that you mention it, Chuck _did _ask if you could take a few things-"

"_Ugh!" _she groaned, starting to close the door.

He put a hand out to stop it. "What if I offered you a raise? _And_ a permanent place on the team. That means full disclosure. You will know everything that we know."

"...everything?"

"_Everything_."

Olive narrowed her eyes at the flowers, as if scrutinizing a contract, before looking at up at Ned. Much to his relief, a sly honey-slow smile began to spread across her face.

"Oh, boy. Emerson will _love_ this..."

**XXX**

Charlotte Charles and Emerson Cod arrived at the Pie Hole to find it empty...except for one Randy Mann. He stood by the counter, picking at a piece of pie, and did not seem to notice them until they called his name.

"Oh. Hi, guys. Ned and Olive are upstairs. I figured I should stick around and look after any customers, but now you're here so..."

Emerson had left long before Randy finished speaking, but Chuck lingered to thank the timid taxidermist. He looked deflated...defeated and she felt inexplicably sad as she watched him leave.

When she reached the landing of their apartment, Ned, Olive and the PI were there, deep in discussion.

"Hey! Where you been?"

The Pie Maker turned to her, smiling wide. "I told Olive. I told her everything. And Emerson is acting all..._Emerson_ about it, but it was the right thing to do. I mean with Lily and Vivian in the loop it just didn't seem fair keep her out. Don't you think?"

"I _do_ think. I mean...I agree. Yay, Olive!" she cheered, hugging the blonde bundle that she considered a friend. Olive waved away her apologies for the secrecy and all seemed to be well...but Chuck could not help feeling as if some barrier had broken down. A boundary that was necessary for the safety of her relationship with Ned...

"_All right, all right_," Emerson grunted. "Itty Bitty gets to play, too. And she's just in time for our next game. We're goin' grave-diggin'."

"_What?_" Ned croaked.

"Somebody gave Emerson a picture of Dwight and our dads. We need to ask him what happened between the three of them."

The Pie Maker suppressed a shudder, recalling their last field trip all too clearly. Unearthing more secrets pertaining to their fathers seemed like a bad idea. And Itty Bitty...her first day on the job should have included a curmudgeonly but cooperative coroner in a well-lit morgue. Not a cunning and criminal corpse in a pitch black cemetery. "Olive-"

"Can be the lookout."

"No way, Cod!"

"Way. _I _am the captain of this team and I am _benching_ you."

"Well, _Ned_ is co-captain," she countered. "Or at least the MVP. And he should get a say, too."

The Pie Maker cringed, not wanting to disappoint her. But for the sake of her safety (and sanity) he decided to side with Emerson.

"Sorry, Olive. I promise you can come and interview the next corpse, okay?"

No. Not okay. But as the day darkened and the clouds thickened, Olive seemed much happier about staying in the car. Around midnight, the inquisitive quartet climbed into the Lincoln Continental and Emerson assured them that it would not, _could_ not rain tonight, of all nights.

By the time they reached the 'From Here to Forever' memorial cemetery it was not raining. It was pouring. "Hey, Olive?" said Chuck, as what sounded like rocks pelted the roof. "I can totally be the lookout if you want."

"No thanks," she smiled sweetly. "I just got my hair done. But you can have the umbrella."

Emerson, up way past his bedtime, was in no mood for banter. He ordered Olive to sit in the front seat, with the car off (that included radio), while Ned got shovels out of the trunk.

"And if you see anybody, you come get us. Got it?"

"Sir, yes sir!" she said, saluting grandly.

The PI rolled his eyes, taking a shovel from the Pie Maker as Chuck took an umbrella and flashlight from Olive. Thus armed, they made their way to the soggy spot where Dwight Dixon had been reburied...

Digging down was laborious, tedious work and sweat mingled with rain while mud mounted around their feet. Finally, they came to the coffin. Chuck pried it open and moved to the head of the grave as Ned and Emerson climbed in. Dwight lay the way they had left him, not yet decomposed...

"He doesn't look very peaceful," Chuck remarked, sounding suspicious.

"_Let's just do this_," Emerson muttered, grateful for the hat that hid his anxious eyes.

"_All right_," Ned exhaled, setting his watch for sixty seconds...

A touch to the forehead and Dwight's eyes snapped open.

"What the hell...?"

"_We're_ asking the questions here," Chuck asserted. "What is with the watches, Dwight?"

Slowly, contemplatively, he took in his surroundings. "Is this...am I...did I _die?_"

"You heard the lady," Emerson snapped. "_We_ ask, _you_ answer. What went down in Egypt?"

Dixon sat up, glaring at the girl before fixing his gaze on the other two men. "And why exactly should I help you? What's in it for me?"

"An act of redemption before you shuffle off this mortal coil forever?" the Pie Maker suggested.

He snorted. "Sorry. Not interested. Unless you keep me alive."

"Sorry, not interested," said the PI. "60 seconds is all you get."

"35, as of now."

"And then what, you re-kill me?"

"Come on, Dwight, _please!_" Chuck exclaimed. "What happened with you and my Dad?"

The conman tilted his head back, looked into her eyes and sighed. "..._all right_," he relented. "All right. I'll..."

It happened so fast that they felt it more than they saw it. A boot connecting with Ned's face, a fist connecting with Emerson's. Dwight grabbed and dragged a struggling Chuck into the coffin, where she narrowly avoided the Pie Maker. Amid the chaos he clambered out and began to run in the direction of their car...

"_Oh my god_," Ned choked as blood dripped from his nose and his watch ticked towards 60 seconds. "Olive!"

**A/N: Dun dun duuuun! To be continued...**

**Okay now, sidebar: the rules surrounding Ned's 'gift' kind of confuse me. In 'Pie-Lette' he said that whoever died after the sixty second mark was decided by "random proximity." But Emerson was right outside the door when Chuck came back ("Bitch, I was in proximity!"- haha). So how come the funeral director died when he was further away, in the bathroom? **

**Is the idea really that someone of 'equal value' dies, like Chuck's Dad for Ned's Mum? And if that is case, only someone as bad as Dwight could be exchanged for him? More on that in the next chapter...**

**Review s'il vous plait!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: _Bonjour_ (or _nuit_, depending on your time zone)! This chapter is as close to filler as I am going to get. Some important developments anyway so please do read and review... **

**Chapter 4: The Great Escape  
><strong>

As Charlotte Charles flew through the cemetery, just ahead of Emerson Cod and just behind Ned Pie Maker, she thought of the many roles that Olive Snook had played in her second life...

Olive was her first friend, her first roommate, her first rival...and the idea that she could be her _last_ inspired hot, bitter tears. But these were washed away as her umbrella fell and she stood staring at the body scattered where their car had been...

The Pie Maker was the first to move, his soaked silhouette shuffling forward in an almost zombie-like manner. Time seemed to slow as he hunched over her, pressed two fingers to her throat and paused. Abruptly, he uttered a guttural groan. Emerson cursed quietly and Chuck held onto him, for fear of falling...

But it seemed that they had both misinterpreted the moment, as Ned turned round, relief lighting his eyes.

"_She's alive_."

The PI deflated, all tension seeping out of him. "Then who bit the dust in Dixon's place?"

"Who cares?" Chuck exhaled, grimacing guiltily. "It's _not_ Olive."

Cod was inclined to agree, albeit reluctant to say so. For the fact remained that they had made a terrible mistake and that somewhere in this graveyard, or outside of it, someone had died as a result...

"Well, how the hell are we gonna get back without a car? And _where_ is Dwight headed to?"

At this, Chuck froze, his words chilling her far more than the rain.

"_Oh no_," she moaned. "Lily and Vivian..."

**XXX**

In that moment the Pie Maker knew he should be concerned for the family of his long-time love. They were, after all, as important to her as he was, if not more. But with the still and unsettlingly silent Olive Snook lying limp before him, his emotions struggled to catch up with his mind...

She had wanted to come with them. She would have been safer with them. And in his arrogant attempts to protect her he had left her vulnerable. This was his fault. It always seemed to be his fault...

Ned ran his thumb along the cut on her forehead, most likely caused by the shattered glass nearby. Dwight must have broken in and dragged her out. And she had fought him, as evidenced by the blooming bruise on her cheek...

"_Ned!_" Chuck urged, fragmenting his torturous thoughts. "We have to go."

The Pie Maker nodded, scooping his waitress up off the ground.

"Let's get out of here..."

Easier said than done. On foot, in the dark and dwindling drizzle, the deserted road seemed to stretch on forever. Emerson was growing increasingly frustrated, Chuck more and more determined to dive in front of the first car that came along, and Ned less confident in the strength of his arms...when a hulking shape loomed out of the distance.

The trio slowed, eyes narrowing against the rain as they stared.

"Is that...?" Ned ventured.

"A bus," Emerson answered.

"Oh my god..." Chuck murmured. "Do you think it belonged to whoever died?"

"...well, if it did they won't be needin' it anymore."

With that the PI marched on, while the Pie Maker stalled, horrified at the idea of stealing from someone they might..._he_ might have killed. He looked to Chuck for reassurance, but she was already ahead of him...

The bus leaned off of the hard shoulder, biggish and bright blue, but otherwise unremarkable. Half-heartedly, Chuck tried the door, only for it to open at once. They stared at each other disbelievingly before Emerson clambered in, claiming the driver's seat. Chuck got into the passenger's and Ned carried Olive to the back. He set her down and sat at her side...

"What kinda _fool_ leaves their keys behind?" Emerson asked, starting the engine.

"The kind of fool that had no intention of coming back?" Chuck suggested.

But the Pie Maker was too preoccupied to pay attention, for at that very moment, Olive Snook stirred.

She looked up at him for a long while, eyes glassy and empty, before recognition coloured her gaze. "_Hi, pie guy_," she murmured. "Sorry about the car."

"What? _No_. Don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry. I left you alone and you got hurt."

"Heh. _Please_. You should see the other guy." Ned smiled slightly, despite himself... "Where _is_ Dwight anyway?"

"...he got away. I let him get away."

"Looks like he didn't give you much choice," she remarked, raising a hand to the blood on his face.

Ned looked down self-consciously, only now feeling the throbbing ache of what could be broken bone, and Olive sat up to take in her surroundings.

"How did we get a _bus?_"

"I don't know. And to be honest, I can't care. You're okay..._ish_. And now I have to focus my fear on Lily and Vivian. There's a good chance Dwight's after them."

"What? Why?"

"They have his watch. And Charles Charles'. I don't know why he wants them or if he has my father's. And I kind of...don't _want_ to know?"

He winced, as if bracing himself for a blow, but she only hummed sympathetically.

"Mmm...daddy issues. I get that. In fact, I can _top_ that. Your dead mum and deadbeat dad vs. my uncaring mum and indifferent dad."

Ned shook his head. "Sorry. Mine take the cake. At least you didn't kill one of yours."

Olive rolled her eyes. "You didn't _kill_ her. You wouldn't kill anyone. You made a mistake. And you learned from it. Whoever died in Dwight's place tonight...well, that was out of your control. But I'm glad it wasn't me."

The Pie Maker sighed, eyes searching out hers in the dark. "So am I."

The waitress smiled, nudging him gently. And from the front of the bus, Charlotte Charles watched...

**XXX**

Emerson Cod had never been a violent man. There were a handful of people in the world that could incite him to violence. And at that very moment, Dwight Dixon was one of them...

As the mysterious bus screeched to a halt outside Casa Charles, Emerson compiled a list of reasons why he had no choice but to get physical:

- The attempted murder of Charlotte Charles (_et al_)

- The violent assault of Olive Snook

- The broken nose of Ned Pie Maker

An honourable mention had been reserved for his own injuries, which, while painful in their own right, could not compare to the blow Dwight dealt to his professional pride. Never before had a criminal (undead or alive) gone free. But Dixon managed it. This was a wrong the PI intended to right...

"Lily! Vivian! Open up!"

And they did, so quickly that the PI suspected they spent the past few hours waiting up for her...

"Where _the hell_ have you been?" Lily demanded.

"You _promised_ to pick up your things!" Vivian yelped. "There and back, _no_ detours."

"Guys, please," Chuck implored, pushing past and pulling them into the house. "Could we continue this conversation somewhere safe?"

Reluctantly, uncertainly, her aunt and mother obliged. The others followed, glancing around as they closed the door behind them...

"So as I was saying," Lily said, pouring drinks for the shivering foursome. "Where _the hell_ have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is? And why do you all look like you got your asses kicked in a mud wrestling match!"

The PI sighed and rubbed his brow, before launching into an abridged version of their exploits. He edited the story to exclude all mentions of Charles Charles and Papa Pie Maker, for fear that the women would die of shock...

"_Cheese and rice,_" Lily muttered. "What were you _thinking_, taking Chuck down there in the middle of the night? Ned, I thought you were supposed to be looking out for her!"

The Pie Maker reddened. "_I tried_," he mumbled, more conscious than ever of keeping his hands to himself, though Chuck sat at the far end of the couch, with Olive and Emerson between them.

"Not hard enough. Thanks to you Dwight Dixon is back from the dead. And he will kill _each_ and _every_ one of us to stay alive."

"That's why you need to _go_," said Chuck, clutching her hot toddy but not drinking it.

"Go _where?_"

"_Europe_. Your tour starts in a few weeks. Why not get a head start? And _get out _of here."

"Not without you," said Vivian, breaking her sullen silence. "Dwight is dangerous. I had a hard time believing it before but...now I know. All he cares about is himself. And for whatever reason, those watches. So if we skip town, we go together."

At this, Ned blanched. The brown-eyed girl turned to him, trying and failing to mask her hesitation.

"I can't," she said. "I can't leave my friends."

"And we can't leave you."

Olive and Emerson glanced at each other, painfully aware that they were privy to a very private moment. They sank back into their seats, but could not escape the crossfire.

"Lily and Vivian are right," said Ned, words falling from his lips like broken glass. "You three are at the top of his hit list. With you in Europe he'll have to come after us first."

"But I can't just run away," Chuck protested, knowing that his worst fears were being confirmed. "You might need my help..."

"I've got Olive and Emerson. Right?" They nodded feebly. "We'll be okay. But _you_ won't be if you stay. So please. Please go."

Silence settled over the room as the two stared at each other, channelling love and longing in almost tangible waves...

"_All right_," Chuck conceded, standing suddenly. "Let's go."

Ned forced a smile as Lily and Vivian nodded at him, before embracing her. The sight of them together, forming a family he did not belong to, very nearly broke his heart. But before the Pie Maker could fall apart inside, a small soft hand slid into his. He started, surprised by the contact, and Olive squeezed reassuringly. Her simple supportive gesture warmed him far more than the whisky in his other hand...

**A/N: Nolive! **_**Nolive!**_** NOLIVE! Ahem...**

**Chapter 5 coming soon :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, this one went all introspective on me :p It's more character-driven than plot-heavy. But the next will be all about action! Important plot developments below, including Nolive, so please do read and review...  
><strong>

**Chapter 5: Time and Travel**

As a child, Charlotte Charles struggled to sleep through the night. Following the death of her father she had come to fear the worst from life. For if Charles Charles could drop dead at any moment, so could she. So could young Ned. So could her aunts...

Thus traumatized, she would don her Godzilla costume, its spongy lining seeming to shield her from the present and seal her in the past. With this armour mounted, she made the long and lonely trip downstairs...

Lily and Vivian were almost always awake, commiserating over glasses of medicinal alcohol. Upon sighting the miniature monster they would scold her for being out of bed, before allowing her to squeeze in between them.

She had slept then, safe in the knowledge that if they were to die without warning, they would at least be together...

20 years, 40 weeks, 9 days, 14 hours and 51 minutes later, the girl named Chuck tossed and turned, as a batch of fresh fears emerged from the oven of her life:

Dwight Dixon was on the loose, probably planning to kill them. Possibly approaching the Pie Hole at that very moment. And all she could do for her friends was hope.

As for her family...well. She would die all over again to protect them...

At this thought, the girl named Chuck threw off her comforter, climbed out of bed and crept downstairs. From the staircase she could only just see and hear them, conversing in low, conspiratorial tones.

"_We have to tell her_."

"_...she knows_."

"_...**how?**_"

"_Beats the hell out of me. But after you passed out- before **I** did- she called me 'Mum'. Maybe Olive said something..."_

_"**Olive?**" _

"_She found out, Viv, I didn't **volunteer** the information_."

A swell of silence followed, smothering the sound of their breathing... "_But you **did** let me to be the last to know._"

"..._I'm **sorry**_."

Chuck blinked as if concussed. She had never heard her mother- stubborn as she was - actually apologize for anything. It seemed private, intimate and not something that she was meant to be privy to. Chuck realized then how childish she must look, crouching on the steps with a thumb clamped between her teeth...

"_Charlotte_," Vivian murmured, brushing at her eyes as she walked in. "What are you doing up, dear?"

"Couldn't sleep."

Surprisingly, Lily smiled. "Si'down, kiddo."

Chuck did as she was told, settling in between the two and taking each of their hands in hers. All at once, the fear that she had felt began to fade. It was no longer an intangible threat, a spectre waiting to swoop in and snatch them up. It had a name, a face, a weakness. And as long as _they_ had each other, she felt invincible.

The shotgun was fairly encouraging, too...

**XXX**

A lifetime seemed to have passed since Olive Snook last invited the Pie Maker into her apartment. Her mission then had been seduction. Failure was not an option. For Ned just happened to be the handsomest, sweetest, strangest man Olive had ever met. And she had met many men...

20 years, 10 weeks, 5 days, 3 hours and 15 minutes ago, Olive had wanted an Arabian stallion. So much so that she dug through the earth to get it, finding and selling an archaeological treasure along the way. It was with similar determination that she discarded Alfredo Aldarisio and pursued the Pie Maker, believing Fate had brought her to him. Thus, his repeated (albeit polite) rejections had wounded her deeply.

But hindsight, as they say, is 20/20 and the waitress could see clearly now, as if a veil had been lifted...

Looking back, it seemed that she had sought love out of loneliness. Following the death of her beloved Pie (as well as her inadvertent involvement in an almost murder), Olive came across the Pie Hole and felt as Catholics must do when standing before a cathedral...

While she was perfectly at home there, waitressing had never been her ambition. Her true passion died with fellow jockey, John Joseph Jacobs. But in some small way the Pie Maker (her priest?) brought it back to life, every time he smiled at her, or said her name, or entrusted her with his dog. She loved those moments. But she knew now that she could live without them, if need be.

As for Ned...well, he had a basketful of his own neuroses: fear of intimacy, fear of commitment, fear of extinguishing an old flame. All fairly typical. And yet totally atypical...

He was afraid to touch because it tended to kill people. He was afraid to love because it tended to cloud his better judgment. He was afraid to let Olive get close because he could barely handle losing a girlfriend, never mind a good friend...

But that was changing. Everything was changing. And as the Pie Maker perched on the edge of her bathtub, she could not help but wonder when they would stop pretending otherwise...

"I should be first aiding _you_."

"_Meh_. Just a few bumps and bruises. _You _have broken bone to deal wi-"

"_Ow!_"

"_Oops!_ Ma bad..."

Ned tried to smile as she pressed the improvised icepack to his nose, her free hand resting on his shoulder. "Is it really broken?" he sniffed, reaching up to hold the cold compress.

"_Nah_," she said, stepping back against the sink. "It's not crooked at least. Doctor Snook prescribes ibuprofen, ice and a stylish pair of sunglasses."

He smiled, more successfully this time, and Olive- fearing that she might blush or bat her eyelashes- turned round. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and- _yikes!_ Her hair was matted with mud, the cut above her eyebrow glared bright red and the bruise...well, that shade of purple was not particularly flattering...

For the first time that night, Olive slowed down, stopped and thought- not about Ned or Chuck or Emerson- but about what had happened to her. Flashbacks of the attack flickered through her mind like a film reel and she froze...

"_Olive?_"

The waitress blinked and shook her head, shuddering slightly. She glanced up at the medicine cabinet, pretending not to notice Ned reflected in its door. No need to worry. She was okay. A-ok...

"Could you pass me the first aid kit?"

The Pie Maker did, but as she tried to take it he held on, compelling her to turn round completely.

"What?" she asked at the look on his face.

"Ol..." he said softly. "You're crying."

"Wha...?" She traced a trembling hand over her cheek and...damn. She was. "Sorry..."

"_Don't_," he pleaded. "Don't be sorry. And don't be sad. Please, Olive, I know I let you down. But I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Olive realized then how responsible he truly felt, but before she could reassure him he was touching her. One warm baseball mitt of a hand carefully cupping her cheek while the other administered stinging saline solution. Olive stilled, savouring the feel of him on her skin, committing the moment to memory...

"_Ice_," the Pie Maker murmured when he was done. "You need ice. And a shower."

She snorted dryly. "_Thanks_."

Ned nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and studiously avoiding her eyes. "I'll go clean up, too. Do you want anything else?"

"Um...chocolate and peanut butter pie?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Pie for breakfast?"

"_Hey_," she wagged a warning finger. "Stop with the judging. You stress bake, I stress eat. _Culinary yin yang_."

"_Heh_..." He gave a genuine grin. "Okay. Chocolate and peanut butter coming up. Quite literally, seeing as I have to go _all the way down_-"

"Ned!" Olive yelped, fear seizing her suddenly her as he walked away. "Don't. I don't- I'm not hungry."

"Huh?"

"_Don't_ go downstairs. Not by yourself. It's not safe."

"Olive, he isn't-"

"Just _don't_, Ned!" she snapped, stamping her foot and immediately feeling foolish for it. "Please."

The Pie Maker stood stunned, not quite knowing how to react to this intensely serious version of the usually sunny waitress. "Uh..._okay_. I've...got some key lime in my fridge, if you want?"

"That...that will do fine," Olive sniffed, piecing her composure back together. "_Thank you."_

He nodded, smiling uncertainly as he closed the door behind him...

An hour later she emerged from her bedroom- washed and swathed in a pink bathrobe. Ned was in the kitchen, watching Digby and Pigby scarf down their own breakfasts...

"_Bon apetit_," the Pie Maker murmured, offering Olive a plate. She took it and leaned against a counter top, picking intently at the pastry.

They sank into silence for a while (meaningless morning news playing out in the background) before Ned spoke:

"Ol...would you like me to stay the night? I mean...what's _left_ of the night..."

The weary waitress looked up as if snapping out of a spell. "Why do you ask?"

He hesitated. "You just seem a little...on edge. And I don't want to leave you like this. I _can't_ leave you like this. I felt bad enough letting Emerson go..."

At that, Olive began to feign intense interest in her pie. "Well, I don't need babysitting anymore than he does. And besides. I don't think Digby would appreciate being kicked out of bed."

Ned blushed. "I'll take the couch," he said, managing to make it sound like a suggestion and decision at the same time. "If anything, _you'll_ be babysitting _me_. I'm not ready to be home alone. Without Chuck I..."

Olive watched as a cartoon cloud seemed to appear over his head, soaking him in sadness. She sighed, wondering wistfully if he needed her company or wanted it...

"Hey," she said at last. "_You should_ stay the night. The _morning_. And in the afternoon you can help me pack a few of her things. A _very_ few, since she'll be back soon. Then in the evening we'll go over with some pie and have a little going away party."

"What about the Pie Hole?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I think we deserve a day off, don't you?"

The Pie Maker looked up and, slowly but surely, his clouds parted. "Yeah. I do..."

**XXX**

At that very moment, Emerson Cod had no intention of taking time off. In fact, his work had only just begun. The Private Investigator sat at a booth in Café Cliché, casting his wary bleary eyes across the diner that had only just opened up. Its staff had clearly just _woken_ up and its chipped checkered floor nearly tripped him up, but he knew that coffee at home was not an option.

Emerson needed to stay awake, alert, at least until the Darling Mermaid Darlings were safely away. He had already contacted Aquacade owner, Jimmy Neptune and convinced him to secure three seats (one for their 'assistant') on the next flight to Paris. After much hemming and hawing and yawning, the tour manager complied. Now Emerson had only to wait and anticipate the next move of Dwight Dixon...

"_Breaking news coming in from Papen County-"_

The PI very nearly dropped his drink as Early Bird News' Veronica Bell seemed to stare straight at him. He knew then, absolutely _knew_ that this would have something to do with the murderous man...

"_A dozen unburied bodies have been found in the From Here to Forever cemetery. Sources on the scene suggest that the group __committed mass suicide__- led by convicted conman Terry Marlowe. Marlowe_, aka Father Brother Priest_, founded the Poppy Temple People sect three years ago, after-"  
><em>

Emerson set down the coffee cup, as its contents threatened to bubble up from his gut...

Proximity. One of those fools must have been in proximity. But the other 11...well, it was hard to feel bad about them when they planned on offing themselves anyway. And yet...the PI could not help but worry for the Pie Maker. He would take this badly, blame himself, obsess over which one he was responsible for...

Cod stood, scoffing at the tip jar as he paid for his coffee. He would look into the deaths before Ned got wind of them. Hopefully their friendly neighborhood coroner could save them some grief...

**A/N: I owe a lot to the PD Wiki for reminding me of important plot points :p Saves me having to rewatch episodes! Which I am happy to do, but time is few...**

**Father Brother Priest and the Poppy Temple People are from BF's comic, but this pretty much marks the end of my inspiration from that. There are no more pages :( So I have to come up with my own theories as to what happens next and why...  
><strong>

**Side note: R.I.P Whitney Houston. Olive is going to sing at some point in the story, so 'I Will Always Love' might be it. But the Dolly Parton version would probably be a better fit... **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Three readers, y u no review! It's fine if you don't feel like it ****:)**** This is the first story in a long time that I've enjoyed writing, just for the sake of writing. But if you don't enjoy reading it then please do tell me why and how I can improve. Thankee sai...**

**Chapter 6: Uninvited Guests **

Charlotte Charles was not in the mood for a pie party. Or a cake party, for that matter. On any other day, it would have been an ideal way to say goodbye. On any other day, she might have had cause to celebrate. But _not_ today. For at that very moment, the ramifications of their actions last night were coming to light...

"Did Ned do this?"

"_Dwight_," Chuck corrected, glancing at her aunt before rereading the newspaper print.

**DOZEN FOUND DEAD AT THE HANDS OF CONMAN CULTLEADER! **

The words blurred as she stared at them, willing them to disappear, to not be true...

"Something doesn't add up," said her mother, taking the Evening Vulture. "Marlowe never planned to poison himself. His Kool-Aid cup was clear of cyanide. But he died anyway. So Ned _must have_ offed him by proxy."

"_Dwight,_" Chuck repeated. "_He_ cheated death, not Ned."

"_All right_," Lily snapped. "I'm not judging. I'm just glad it was someone bad. Maybe the whole 'random proximity' thing isn't so random."

Chuck frowned, caught at a crossroads of sadness, guilt, fear, relief...

And whichever path she chose to go down, it would _not_ end in a pie party. But Olive had sounded so sincere when she called, so desperate to cheer up their band before it disbanded. She must have missed the news somehow...

The doorbell rang just then and as she rose to answer it, Lily and Vivian grabbed each of her arms.

"Oh, no you don't."

"_You_ don't answer the door anymore."

Chuck scoffed but stayed seated while her mother took up the shotgun and her aunt grabbed a kitchen knife. Dwight was not going to attempt an assassination in broad daylight. And yet...she tensed as they flanked the door, demanding to know who was on the other side...

"_Yo friendly neighbourhood PI_."

The women heaved a collective sigh, Vivian reaching over to let him in. Emerson tipped his hat to them as he entered.

"_Ladies_. I take it you already know about the '_Deadly Dozen_'."

"_Yessir_," Lily drawled. "What we _don't_ know is how deep Ned's finger is in this particular pie."

"Terry Marlowe died of supernatural causes," Chuck asserted. "Coroner confirmed it, right?"

The PI frowned, glancing around as if the answer were written on their walls. "Yeah. Yeah, he confirmed it..."

"_See?_" said the bubbly brunette. "Mystery solved, case closed!"

Emerson nodded, eyes focused on the floor. He seemed...unsatisfied, unsure of himself and her stomach shrivelled at the sight.

Vehemently, Chuck dismissed it as the road he had chosen to travel: guilt. She would have gone with him, but her heart was too far up Relief Street to turn back now...

**XXX**

Olive Snook raced to the top of the stairs, as if being pursued by a ghost. She skidded to a stop outside her door, inhaling and exhaling until her nerves had settled and her smile had set. Today was going to be a good day, she told herself. Today was going to be a great day...

"Honey-crust cup pies are in the oven!" she announced, bursting into the apartment. "And the party is _on_ like Cheech and Ch..._Ned?" _

The Pie Maker looked at her mournfully and the waitress faltered, her nuclear reactor of cheer fizzling out. He pointed to her pink TV set, which buzzed with the evening news...

"_Families have been informed and the coroner can now confirm the identities of the Deadly Dozen..._"

"_Wha...?_"

Olive sat down next to him, her heart sinking further and further as the information unfurled.

"_Oy_," she murmured, when they finally cut to commercial.

"_Oy indeed_," he muttered.

"This is because Dwight got away?"

"The eleven, no. The one, yeah." He turned to her, eyes empty and glassy. "How close could he have been? How far...?"

"_Ned_," she said, trying to redirect his train of thought. "Terry Marlowe sounded like a terrible person."

"_And?_" he pressed desperately. "What does it matter? Why should I get to choose who lives or dies?"

"You_ don't_ have a choice. Random proximity, remember?"

He shook his head, turning back to the TV. She watched him for a moment before standing up and switching it off.

"What are y-?"

"We have a party to get to."

"Olive, this is import-"

"_Life_ is important, Ned! Death will always be there, waiting for us. And we can only delay it for so long. In the meantime, we _live_. We make merry. We eat pie! Now are you going to spend time with your alive again girlfriend or sit here obsessing over a dead man?"

It was a rhetorical question, asked with no desire for an answer. But as the Pie Maker stood decisively, Olive found that she too had made a choice. She would no longer obsess over undead Dwight, living in fear of his homicidal tendencies. She would simply live...

Casa Charles seemed quiet when they arrived and it was not Lily or Vivian that opened the door for them, but Maurice and Ralston.

"_Howdy, partners!_" Olive exclaimed, embracing the boys.

"_Bonjour, mademoiselle!_" they chimed, grinning broadly. "_Frère Pie Maker._"

Ned attempted to shake their hands but was mercilessly hugged instead. "_Hi_," he said over their heads. "_Where_ is Chuck?"

"In the kitchen with everybody else, talking travel arrangements."

"You can put your pies down next to the cheese plates."

"That...is _a lot_ of cheese," said Ned, nearly tripping over a stack of suitcases as he passed the living room. "Are there anymore guests?"

"_Nope,_" said Maurice. "But Lily and Vivian need to clear their refrigerator. They said we can take some home as party favors."

"_Dibs on the Gruyère!_" said Ralston.

"_Drat!_" Olive grumbled. She placed the pies down and rejoined Ned. "Well, you can put some music on while we go say hi. Be right back..."

The mood in the kitchen was sober, solemn, like that of a wake. Chuck, Emerson, Lily and Vivian sat around the table, eyeing each other with the air of poker players.

"_Woah_..." the waitress murmured. "Who died?" She chuckled darkly at the looks on their faces. "Kidding, kidding, I know. But seriously, folks, this is our last supper. Can we put Terry and the Poppy Temple People aside, for one night?"

"_We most definitely can_," said Chuck, rising to hug her. She blew a kiss to the Pie Maker, who grinned and caught it.

Olive stared studiously at the wall and stretched her face into a smile. "All righty then! Let's get this party started..."

**XXX**

For the first time in his life, Emerson Cod did _not_ want pie. After being taxied around Papen County- from Café Cliché to the coroner to the Boutique Travel Travel Boutique in Coeur d'Coeurs- all he wanted was his beloved Lincoln Continental back, and several hours of sleep.

But on their last night together, with Olive practically force feeding him cheer- as well as pastry- he had no choice but to comply.

"You okay, Cod?" the waitress asked, watching Ned and Chuck canoodle contact-free in a corner, while the twins danced to the radio.

"_Fine_."

"_Really?_" she persisted, smoothing down the sweeping pattern of her dress. "Coz you have quite a trout pout going on there."

The PI sighed and glanced at the aunts, who were talking intently. "New developments have come to light in the case of the Deadly Dozen."

She rolled her eyes. "I thought we agreed _not _to-"

"You asked. And if you wanna be part of the team, Itty Bitty, you better start helpin' me find some answers."

Olive exhaled wearily. "Okay. Whazzup?"

Cod cast a cautious look around the room, before leaning in to inform her of his findings. The facts were these:

Upon quizzing the coroner, Emerson learned that while the eleven cups had tested positive for cyanide, the eleven bodies came out clean. The PI pored over these results, his mind refusing to compute the conclusion at hand. For if these things were true, neither he nor the Pie Maker had understood the powers that they made use of. If these things were true, 'random proximity' had a longer reach than they thought. If these things were true, the Deadly Dozen- like Terry Marlowe- did _not_ kill themselves...

"But how do we know for sure th-?"

"_12 dead_, within seconds of each other, starting the moment Dwight Dixon cheated death."

Itty Bitty grimaced and glanced at Ned, who was laughing as Chuck wielded a box of saran wrap.

"...so _we_ killed them? _We _killed all those people."

"Well, if we're gonna play the blame game," he said grimly. "I lose. It was my dumb idea to dig up Dixon in the first place."

"_No_. You- we all let- we _tried_ to stop him. And we didn't know. Emerson, we didn't know they were going to- they _wanted_ to- they wouldn't have changed their minds, right? They wouldn't have tried to leave?" To his alarm, the pintsized blonde began to tear up. "_Oh god_..."

"_Hey_," the PI uttered tersely. "Calm down. They can't know. _Especially_ not Dough Boy..."

Olive inhaled shakily, her tears retreating. "_Okay_. I just- I need air..."

"You got plenty in here."

"No, I have to...stick my head out a window or something..."

As she got up, excusing herself to everyone else, Emerson bit back the urge to tell her not to jump. For all his nonchalance, he could not escape the fact that had been carrying a loaded gun with the safety off, for years. And if Ned ever misfired his magic finger in the wrong place at the wrong time-

"_NO!_"

The shrill, almost musical scream erupted from upstairs, followed by a frantic scuffling sound, and silence. The party sat shell-shocked for a second, before Emerson leapt to his feet, bounding upstairs with the others close behind...

They stumbled to a stop on the landing, freezing at the sight of Dwight Dixon.

"_Good evening, gentleman_," he panted, as Olive struggled in his grasp. "_Ladies_." Lily cocked her gun wordlessly and he smirked, producing his own. The waitress whimpered as he pressed it to her temple. "I assume my invitation got lost in the mail."

The twins uttered terrified squeaks, before Ned pushed them back.

"How did you get in here?"

"Ah...a magician never reveals his secrets, am I right?"

The Pie Maker stood silent, his fists clenching spasmodically.

"What the hell do you want, Dwight?" Lily snapped.

"What do you think?"

She hesitated, exhaling heavily before lowering her weapon. "You can have your watch. But Charles' belongs to this family."

"Like hell it does. I want both of them."

The PI's hand twitched over his holster as he wondered how quickly he could plant a bullet, without hitting the wrong target. Before he could take decisive action Lily nodded, handing her gun to Vivian and disappearing down the hallway. Silence swelled then, permeated by the sounds of labored breathing and quiet crying.

Abruptly, conversationally, Dwight spoke up: "Hey, that was a neat trick, Ned! Did you learn it from your Dad?" When no response was forthcoming he continued: "Who gave it to you then? Can you return it? Some gifts come with a receipt..." The silence seemed to aggravate him now as he growled, "Could you bring back your friend?"

"Dwight, if you hurt her, I swear to whatever power may be, I will-"

"What? Poke me? Please, Ned. You might be able to kill with one touch, but so can I." His finger tapped the gun trigger and Olive flinched. "Unlike you, I don't need to be up close and personal to do it..."

Lily reappeared just then, holding out a blue velvet watch case.

"Toss it to me," he instructed. She obliged and a small sob bubbled up from the girl named Chuck. "Thank you. Now...if you would all be so kind as to go downstairs."

"Not without Ol-"

"She will be with you shortly. Don't worry, I won't harm her. But I'm not going to release my little human shield when you're around."

Emerson snarled, knowing that they were on the losing end of this standoff. He ushered the others towards the staircase, eyes never leaving Dixon as he committed him to memory: the color of his coat, the make of his gun, the glint in his eye...

"_Enjoy your party, folks_."

They waited with bated breath in the foyer, until Olive emerged, taking steps so shaky they could have been her first. Ned reached out and lifted her bodily into a hug, as the silence was fractured by shouting and cursing and the panicked pleas of Maurice and Ralston to explain exactly what just happened.

But Emerson tuned out the chaos, listening only to the distant revving of his car and the screech of tires, as Dwight Dixon drove away.**  
><strong>

**A/N: _Cheese and rice_, that took forever to write :p Kudos if you read it all the way through...  
><strong>

**Wikipedia informs me that the Kool-Aid suicides were a real thing O_o Bryan Fuller based the Poppy People Temple sect off of an actual cult that was murder-suicided (The Jonestown Massacre). Which is...pretty grim! But he _did_ say that the comic would be darker than the show so I am going to run with it...**

**I have no idea how or why 'random proximity' could kill all those people, but it will be fun trying to find out :)  
><strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: JAS, the random proximity deaths confuse me too :p But based on the comic, it works out like this: Ned, Chuck and Emerson go to the cemetery to dig up dirt on the Blue Berets. Unbeknownst to them, the Poppy Temple People are about to commit suicide nearby. Before the cult members can drink their cyanide flavoured Kool-Aid, Dwight makes it past the one minute mark (remember, he escaped at the end of Chpt 3). Thus, something else has to die, "or in this instance- a lot of something elses".**

**Bryan Fuller must have had big plans for Ned and his gift, because on the show only one person dies. Methinks his powers are evolving and nobody knows how or why...**

**Chapter 7: Better Left Unsaid **

As the Charles Clan loaded the last of their luggage, Charlotte looked back at her friends. There were so many things she wanted to say and do; kiss Ned, hug Olive, thank Emerson. But her feet seemed rooted to the ground. She realized then that the only thing worse than leaving would be staying. And yet she could not bring herself to say goodbye...

"So is _Jimmy Neptune_ paying for this cab?" Lily asked, sparing the need for tearful farewells. "Coz we are _not_ made of money. Not yet."

"Sorry, ladies, no dice," said Emerson. "I woulda driven you, but my car is...otherwise occupied."

Vivian wrinkled her nose at the implication his words. "What happened to that blue bus?"

"I returned it to its rightful owner. Not that Marlowe will need it where he's goi-"

"_Okey dokey!_" Olive interrupted. "None of that now. _Bon voyage, Mesdemoiselles_."

Chuck nodded, wowed by how the waitress could turn her cheer on like a light bulb. And worried about the darkness it concealed...

"_No goodbyes_," said Ned, speaking for the first time since their cab arrived. "Just...see you later."

Chuck turned to him, her sight blurred by abrupt tears. There were so many things she needed to say. But "_take care of my bees_" was all she could manage in that moment.

Lily glanced between them and cleared her throat. "_Ned_," she croaked, as if coming down with a cold. "We never-" She wiped her eye impatiently and coughed. "We never thanked you..."

"For saving her life," Vivian filled in. "You're a good man and your father would be proud."

The Pie Maker stood stunned, like they had slapped him. "I..." he managed at length. "I'm sorry for keeping her from you. If I could give back the time I took-"

"You didn't take anything, kid. You gave. And you have _nothing_ to be sorry about."

He nodded feebly, as their cab driver stuck his head out the window. "_Ladies_. Are we going or what?"

"_Cool it, Bickle, we're comin'_," her mother snapped. She turned back to them and saluted. "Later, folks."

"_Later_," her aunt echoed, waving sadly.

The girl named Chuck stood rooted to the spot, swallowing the swollen sob in her throat before speaking.

"_Stay safe_."

And with that she clambered into the cab, closing the door quickly and refusing to look back...

**XXX**

Olive stared after the car as it disappeared around a corner. She could have cried, but all of her emotional energy had been spent last night. The waitress wondered if her mental fortitude was fractured, following the events of the pie party. If so, she would cover up the cracks, paper over them for the sake of her team. Her team that was now down one very important player...

"_All right, boys_," she said at last. "Pie Hole?"

"_Uh-uh_," Emerson grumbled. "I'm gonna dig up dirt on the Blue Berets."

Ned paled and shook his head. "No. Not now, _please_. If I have to hear another word about _any_ of them I..." The PI narrowed his eyes at him and the Pie Maker sighed. "Just not today. Come home with us. Eat something. Get some sleep."

Emerson eyed them irritably, knowing that resistance was futile, before he sighed and slumped against the porch railing. "Fine. But NO pie. _Man cannot live on dessert alone_..."

By the time their cab crawled to a stop, Olive had mapped out a meal for her partners: macaroni and cheese, with caramelized sweet potato and a side order of...Randy Mann?

"Hey!" Olive exclaimed, climbing out of the car. "What are you doing here?"

The timid taxidermist frowned and scratched his head. "I came round yesterday," he mumbled. "But the Pie Hole was closed so I called. When you didn't answer I got worried and waited for hours. Until this police officer saw me and told me not to loiter...so I came back today and- where were you?"

Olive hesitated, glancing back at the men behind her. "Well, Chuck and her aunts are travelling, so we decided to throw them a going away party. We all stayed over and-"

"We?"

"We. As in me, Ned, Emerson, Maurice, Ralston..." Olive trailed off, stumbling upon the sudden realization that she had forgotten to invite him. Forgotten him completely. "Oh, Randy, I am so sorry. We had a lot going on and-"

"And you never thought to include me in the 'we'?"

"Well, I..." she halted, Alfredo Aldarisio coming to mind like a hologram. "No. I didn't."

"...because of him?"

Randy looked over her shoulder and Ned yelped in alarm, as if the quiet accusation had been a gunshot. Olive whipped round, her first instinct being 'deny, deny, deny'. But lying seemed cruel, especially when the truth was so well-known...

Before she was forced to say anything, Emerson spoke up. "All right. You two obviously need to talk. _We_ will be inside if you need us." He wrested the restaurant keys from Ned, took his arm and tugged him away.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Olive sighed. "_Yes_," she confessed quietly. "Because of him."

"But he doesn't feel the way I do about you."

True. He did not. Not now. But not never. He wouldn't say 'never'...

"Randy, you are a _great _guy. And I would be lucky to have you. But you deserve someone that can give you their whole heart. Not just pieces of it."

He nodded, lifting his head so slowly and laboriously it could have been filled with lead. "_Well_," he murmured, "I hope he knows how lucky he is to have yours."

Olive smiled softly, sadly. "_So do I..._"

**XXX**

"_No peeking_."

"I am not!"

The PI rolled his eyes as the Pie Maker forced himself to focus on anything other than the couple currently breaking up. Undead Girl may have been on the next flight out, but she had left a lot of emotional baggage behind. And at that very moment, Emerson resolved to pack it away, to keep it safely out of sight, until she returned to claim it...

"He was wrong, right?" Ned fretted, wringing his hands on the table. "About Olive still...not that she ever _really_...I mean it was just a-"

"Dough Boy, do _not_ try to figure out how that woman feels. She can handle herself. All _you_ gotta do is keep it professional. All right?"

"..._all right_," he exhaled, shoulders relaxing. "I can do that. I can...wait. _No_," he said suddenly. "I _can't_ do that. She's my friend. There's no way to keep it professional without the personal spilling over and spoiling everything."

"Sure there is. You _ignore_ it. Like I do."

"How can I ignore her being unhappy? I hate that she's unhappy."

"She's human. She can't always be your pocket full o' sunshine. That wasn't in the job description."

With that, he flipped his newspaper open impatiently, trying and failing to pay attention to its contents...

"Can I read that after you?"

Emerson felt his heart free fall as he folded up the paper. "_No_," he snapped, knowing that the details of the Deadly Dozen had to remain a mystery. At least until he could figure out a way to help the Pie Maker deal with it, _without_ renouncing his powers...

Fortunately, Olive walked in just then. "You boys hungry?" she chirped with forceful cheer.

"Um...yeah," the Pie Maker uttered. "Do you...can I help you with anything?"

"_Nah_," she smiled dimly. "I'm fine."

They nodded and watched her work for a minute, before turning back to each other...

"_She can do better_."

"_Say what?_"

"She can do better than Randy. I mean...he was a _really_ nice guy. But she deserves something more. Something bigger and better than nice. Someday Mr Right will waltz through that door and..."

"Take her away from you."

"What?"

"Well, how do you think that story will end? Happily ever after, amirite?" Ned nodded. "And does waitressin' for an unrequited crush sound like a fairytale to you?" Ned shook his head. "Right. So when her Prince Charmin' rides in on his steed- or _sports car_- you best believe that she will be outta here faster than you can whip up a meringue. And you better not stand in the way. You can't have your pie and eat it, too."

Ned shrugged, as if to shake off his confusion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm sayin' the times they are a-changin'. You can't keep askin' her to settle for second best. Either give her a reason to stay or let her go."

The Pie Maker frowned, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the cryptic advice. Emerson sighed and rolled his eyes in the direction of Itty Bitty. She was bustling round the kitchen, oblivious to their gossip, bound in a bubble of her own troubles. The PI tried to picture another waitress in her place, but could only imagine a vacuum of dark space. He realized then that he would miss her, he _could_ miss her, just as much as Chuck. And despite the nature of his ultimatum, he found himself hoping that Ned would give her a reason to stay...

**A/N: The cancellation left us in a promising place with Nolive :) Ned was jealous of Randy, who had yet to become more than a rebound guy.** **Everybody knew how Olive felt but nobody was willing to deal with it.** **And Chuck was going to be out of the picture,** **living with her family**. **So as far as I can tell, Nolive was canon :p And now it is headcanon. _Huzzah..._  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Cheno was injured on the set of The Good Wife :( This never would have happened if PD was still on air! Hope she gets well soon...**

**We pick up where we left off, with Chuck fleeing Papen County, Ned and Olive growing closer in the absence of their significant others, and Emerson pursuing the mystery of the Deadly Dozen...**

**Chapter 8: Dearly Departed**

Charlotte Charles had a fear of flying. Which she discovered exactly thirty-six seconds after takeoff. As Lily and Vivian stretched languidly in their seats, she gripped an armrest and stared at the ceiling, wishing her father was there with them...

"_Breathe_, kid," Lily chuckled. "You're turning blue."

Vivian nudged her side, smiling. "Is the great adventurer afraid?"

"_No_," Chuck lied guiltily, trying not to focus on the fact that they were trapped within a mass of metal, rocketing skywards at incomprehensible speeds, their fate in the hands of some faceless pilot...

"_Ladies and gentlemen, the Captain has turned off the Fasten Seat Belt sign, and you may now move around the cabin..._"

Chuck stole stealthy glances out the window, not moving to loosen her restraints as a refreshment cart rattled down their aisle. Upon arrival, the flight attendant smiled stiffly and offered them drinks.

"Red wine, scotch on the rocks, and the strongest shot you got," Lily ordered. "My daughter needs it for medicinal purposes."

"I do _not._"

"She does," Vivian insisted. "This is her first time on a plane."

"What? No way!" the redhead chirped, suddenly animated as she served them. "How old are you?" Before Chuck could answer, the girl paled, pressing a hand to her pretty face. "Oh, I am so sorry, that was rude!"

Chuck laughed limply. "No, I know it seems weird. I always wanted to fly but...I had these agoraphobic _aunts_ that kept clipping my wings."

Lily and Vivian exchanged sheepish glances as the flight attendant continued blithely.

"Well hey, would you like to see the cockpit?"

"Um..." Chuck toyed with her belt buckle, torn between fear and excitement... "Is that allowed?"

"Not during the flight, no. But our Captain is a little more...relaxed than most. Maybe when we land?"

Chuck took a bracing breath, knowing that Charles Charles would never forgive her for missing this...

"_Sure_," she exhaled. "Take me to your leader..."

**XXX**

"Back from the dead, sleepyhead?"

Ned blinked obtusely as he shuffled downstairs, stunned by the unexpected cheer of his only employee. For her part, Olive bustled round the Pie Hole, behavior betraying no signs of a broken heart…

"Are we opening today?"

"Yep!" she said, leaning across the counter to wipe it down, her skirt hiking up slightly in the process. "Vacation is over, pie guy."

Ned nodded, grabbing an apron as he glanced around the spotless patisserie. "Where did Emerson go?"

"_Home_ hopefully. I woke up and he was gone." She turned towards the fridge, eyes drifting over everything except him. "Say, we seem to be running low on sweetmeats. Storage room is stocked, right?"

The Pie Maker hesitated, watching and waiting for her to talk _to_ him, instead of _at_ him.

"Uh, it should be," he offered feebly, fumbling in his pockets for the keys. As he found them and unlocked the heavy black door, a proverbial light bulb lit up his mind: Olive had no idea how they stocked their fruit. Here lay the last of his magic tricks. And sharing it might make take her mind off…things…

"Ol, can I show you something?"

"Mm-hm?" the waitress murmured.

He gestured towards the room and she followed him in, brow furrowed…

"_What the hay…?_"

Ned winced bracingly as Olive surveyed the assortment of decaying strawberries, blueberries, apples and plums, stacked in barrels and bowls. She turned to him, green eyes wide.

"Is _this_ why you always kept it locked?"

He nodded. "Sorry for not-"

She waved the apology away and scurried to a shelf. "Just show me, green fingers."

Ned pulled his hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together theatrically, hovering over a cluster of strawberries. He picked one up and they watched it redden and ripen, life coursing through it like a heartbeat.

"_Wow_," Olive giggled, plucking it from his fingertips. "Talk about recycling!" The Pie Maker laughed a little, relieved to see her smile. "So this is why you never eat meat, huh? I always thought you were herbivorous by choice..."

"Not exactly. I _could_ touch it twice, but seeing animal corpses wriggle round on a plate tends to kill the appetite."

Olive grimaced, eyeing the strawberry. "Well, at least I can eat _this_ in good conscience..."

With that she bit in, lips wrapping round the fleshy fruit and sucking at its see-

Ned blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and realized that he had been staring rather rudely. He looked away awkwardly, listening for the sound that brought him back to his senses: a customer.

"Well," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "_Back to work_."

She sighed and smiled. "_You're the boss_…"

They left the room with bunches of fruit in hand and as Ned locked the door behind them, he realized it had been over sixty minutes since he last thought of Chuck…

**XXX**

Emerson Cod- having cleared the cobwebs of fatigue from his mind and silenced the hungry grumbling of his stomach- sat knitting thoughtfully.

Over the past few years he had taken a begrudging liking to Ned. A liking that almost looked like friendship. Thus, he felt duty bound to protect the Pie Maker from himself. To keep him from ever finding out that his trigger finger was responsible for the Deadly Dozen.

Emerson never told white lies, preferring brutal honesty to soothing half-truths. But this was a special case. One he intended to solve on his own...

At that very moment, three sharp knocks sounded on the door.

Cod set his crocheted creation down, reached for his holster and had barely said "_come in_" before a man entered. He was similar to the PI in size; big and barrel-chested, with skunk-like hair streaked black and white.

"Afternoon," he said, shutting the door. "My name is Godfrey Gillard. I was told that you, and only you, could help me find out how my physically- if not mentally- healthy daughter dropped dead, along with eleven others."

The PI narrowed his eyes, not sure what to make of this stranger or his demeanour. "Come again?"

"My name is Godfrey Gillard. I was told that you-"

"Yeah, I got that," he said, standing slowly. "You say your daughter dropped dead, along with..." _Eleven others_. "Was she, by any chance, a member of the Poppy Temple People sect?"

"_Cult_, Detective Cod, let us be quite clear on that."

Emerson frowned. "My condolences, Mr-"

"_Doctor_."

"Dr Gillard. But as far as I know the coroner came up with nothing."

"Well I want you to find out what the coroner could _not_," said Gillard, staring unblinkingly with beady black eyes. "My wife needs some sort of answer. Some form of closure."

"And you?"

The man shrugged a shoulder. "Gloria died the day she walked away from her family."

Emerson recoiled, trying and failing to mould his face into a mask of apathy. As a father fairly familiar with the pain of losing a daughter, he could not accept this attitude.

But there were more important matters to consider, facts that tugged urgently at the PI: Godfrey Gillard had questions. He thought Emerson would have answers. Someone sent him here. Who?

"My apologies, Dr Gillard, but I don't know what you want me to do."

"Your job," he stated, his face as still as a frozen lake. "I hear you're good at it. If that's true I will pay accordingly."

"_Money_ ain't the issue," said Cod, surprising himself. "You want me to chase a ghost, Doc. But nothing I do will bring her back."

At that Gillard seemed to smile, so slightly Emerson wondered if he imagined it… "Thank you for your time, Detective. I'll be in touch." And with that he opened the door, disappearing through it before the PI could protest.

Emerson stood still, letting the last few minutes sink into his mind. Something wasn't right here. In fact, something was seriously wrong.

**A/N: Dun dun DUUUUNNN!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Apologies for the late arrival! And thank you, merry few, for continuing to read and review :) **

**Chapter 9: Maybe This Time**

As the plane touched down, Charlotte Charles thanked whatever power might be for getting them safely on the ground. She stared out the window now, her heart executing an elaborate series of flips at the thought that this was Paris. She was in _Paris_. And Papen County seemed a world away...`

"_Mademoiselle?_"

Chuck looked up to see their flight attendant standing in the aisle. She smiled and unfastened herself, nudging Lily and Vivian eagerly. But the two waved her off, insisting she go ahead while they gathered their hand luggage...

Thus, the bubbly brunette followed the chirpy redhead, weaving past wealthier passengers as she went...

"My name is Gwen by the way!"

"_Bonjour, Gwen!_ _Je m'appelle Chuck._"

"And are you here for business or pleasure, Chuck?"

"Um...a bit of both. My mum and aunt are synchronized swimmers; this is the first stop on their world tour."

"_Cool beans_," Gwen chirped as they reached the cockpit door. She picked a key from her pocket, knocked thrice and unlocked it, before ushering Chuck inside...

Were Charles Charles present just then, he might have uttered a quiet "wow." The flight deck was a smorgasbord of technology, with panels of multicolored switches and buttons spreading out to wide windows, which looked onto an expanse of sky...

"_Bienvenue!_" said the pilot, catching her eye. "Charlotte, right?"

"Chuck," she smiled, as he stood and shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Chuck. How was your first flight?"

"Terrifying…but not because of your flying! You were wonderful."

"_Why, thank you_," he grinned, nodding obligingly. "Would you like a crash course- no pun intended- on how this stuff works?"

"I would love that," she said, silently longing for a camera with which to capture the moment...

"Well, here we have the airspeed indicator, sort of like a speedometer on your car...then the altimeter, which measures air pressure...and the autopilot, great for power naps..."

Chuck nodded along, listening with the keenness of a new student. He clearly enjoyed his job and she enjoyed hearing (if not always understanding) the technobabble. Only when Gwen cleared her throat did he stop short, checking the time ruefully...

"_Sorry_," he said, scratching his stubbly jaw. "I don't often get to show and tell. You probably just want to hit the road...or the _Champs-Élyseés_."

"Oh, no, I- well, yes. But this was fun! Thank you, Gwen. And thank _you_, Captain...?"

"Mulchandani," he filled in. "Eugene Mulchandani. But all the cool kids call me Gene."

"_Gene_," she repeated. "Nice meeting you, Gene."

He gave a small salute and smiled. "_Et toi, mademoiselle_..."

**XXX**

Dinner at the Pie Hole had once been a predictable affair. Ned and Chuck sat across from each other, Emerson sat adjacent and Olive served the table before settling down wherever there was room. On nights when the PI was MIA- nights like tonight- she made excuses to not dine with them, preferring the company of Digby and Pigby, who never made her feel like a third wheel…

But three days, six hours and twenty-nine minutes later, the old order had been swept away.

Chuck was over the ocean, Emerson was on a mission, and Olive sat with Ned, leaning against the counter as they ate their pasta primavera...

"This is great," said the Pie Maker. "Thank you."

"_No problemo_," said the waitress. "I just threw it together."

"Mm," he murmured. "I guess baking is harder than cooking."

Olive side-eyed him skeptically. "How so?"

Ned shrugged simply. "Baking is a science."

"And cooking is an art," she countered. "I may freestyle from time to time, but it's not easy. Pasta can be just as temperamental as pastry, you know." He conceded with a nod and she eased off, satisfied. "That being said, your chocolate Kahlua pie with the brown sugar bourbon cream is ridonkulously difficult. I never quite get it right."

"Well, I'll teach you...if you'll teach me," he added wryly.

"Oh, I'll teach you," she resolved. "But not this 101 stuff. I mean _masterclass_."

Ned tilted his head, noting the competitive glint in her eyes, and smiled... "_You're on._"

At that very moment the phone rang, breaking up their banter. The Pie Maker leapt to his feet, knowing there were only a few people who could be calling at this hour...

"Chuck!" he exclaimed, turning his back and tucking one arm under the other. "Where- how are you? Lunch? What time is it over there? Oh...yeah, dinner here. Pretty weird without you..."

Olive winced, wondering how she allowed herself to forget that she was but a substitute, a placeholder...an understudy for the star of the show...

She was not allowed much time to wallow, however, as a series of sharp knocks disrupted her thoughts. Olive whipped round to see Emerson, waiting at the door.

With a sigh the waitress got to her feet, taking comfort in the fact that they were all safe and sound, for now...

**XXX**

"Where the frak have you been?"

The PI glared down at the whiny waitress, in no mood to be interrogated. Moments ago he had seen a man– too tall to be Dwight Dixon– standing and staring from across the street. With his dark hat and coat he blended into the night, almost hidden...almost...

Upon noticing that he had been noticed, the stranger turned and sauntered off, as if simply sightseeing.

This incident made him as nervous as he was suspicious. Between Dwight, Charles Charles and Godfrey Gillard, he had more than enough dubious characters to fend off…

"_Lock the door_," Emerson grumbled, pushing past her. He noted Ned on the phone, conversing in happily melancholic tones, and asked: "Undead Girl?"

"Yep."

"Good." He nudged Itty Bitty towards a booth, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "There have been new developments vis-à-vis the Deadly Dozen..."

Olive groaned as she sat down next to him. "We should not be discussing this now," she murmured. "If Ned finds out he will freak."

"Well, protecting him is no longer practical. Between the press and Godfrey Gillard-"

"_Who?_"

"His daughter was in the Poppy Temple People. He wants to know- his wife wants to know what happened to her. Coroner's report ain't gonna cut it."

"And what makes him think we know more than he does?"

"Beats the hell outta me. But somethin' ain't right with this guy. He _knows_ that we know more than he does."

"_How?_"

"_I don't know_."

Olive wrung her hands, not sure what to make of this. She looked to Ned anxiously, just as he hung up the phone...

"How is she?"

"Excited," he said, turning to them with a tight smile. "Worried about us, but excited. She got to see the flight deck and meet the pilot...his name was Gene..." He shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Hi, Emerson. Want something to eat?"

The PI watched him wearily and sighed. "Sure..."

As the Pie Maker set about loading another plate with pasta, Olive and Emerson exchanged glances. They knew Ned would know, sooner or later, that something was terribly wrong. But neither knew how to tell him…

And at this moment in time, with so much sadness surrounding them, they were not about to try.

**A/N: Good on you if you remembered who Eugene is! If not, lemme break it down fo ya: he is the Indian boy with braces that befriended Ned at school. He had a thing for paper planes, so I thought it could make some sort of sense if he became a pilot. More on him later…**

**Oh, and Nolive! Sorry if the chapter was a bit angsty; lots of action and romance to come...**

**'Til then, Happy New Year :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Jiminy Crispies O_o I cannot believe it has been nearly a year since I touched this fic. ******SO sorry for the late update. I was in postgraduate hell and I guess my priorities just shifted...****

**Muchas gracias to those who continue to read! I am, as always, eternally grateful for your time and patience :) **

**Chapter 10: A Room with a View**

This would not do. This would not do at all...

Charlotte Charles was in a hotel, _en Paris_, with her nearest dearest family, and their window looked out onto...a wall. The flat, ashy brick wall of some neighboring building. It seemed sacrilegious; to arrive in the city of light and be deprived of its sights...

"We need to change rooms toot sweet!"

"This one is fine," Lily claimed, reclining on her bed. "New towels, clean sheets and a bar down the hall."

"But the view..."

"We know, dear," Vivian warbled, emerging from the bathroom in her feathery robe. "Perhaps when Jimmy Neptune gets here."

"Next week?" she groaned. "_Mais non!_ Maybe if we ask the desk clerk..."

"You go, kiddo. That wine is making me drowsy."

"Not to mention the time difference. Papen County must be fast asleep by now..."

At that, the thought of home tied itself to her heart like a swiftly sinking stone. Chuck breathed in, swallowing this sudden sadness with determination, and said: "Be right back."

But she would not be right back. For as the snippy receptionist refused her (citing the last minute nature of their reservation), a giggling couple stumbled through the foyer doors. They glanced at her as they passed, then skidded to a stop.

"Chuck?"

She turned, eyes wide and mind reeling at the sight of Gwen and Gene.

"Chuck!"

The Alive Again Adventurer felt her heart float up like a buoy, bobbing on this wave of familiarity. And in that moment home was but a distant dream, drifting away on the horizon...

**XXX**

Ned had spent two nights on the couch of Olive Snook. Or was it two mornings? Time seemed to have blurred into an indefinite mass of moments since their encounter with Dwight Dixon...

Either way, he could feel himself becoming comfortable. Perhaps too comfortable. The Pie Maker knew that he would soon have to stop camping out in her living room...and he dreaded the thought. For his own home had grown colder, quieter without the girl named Chuck. Here he felt less alone and more capable of protecting Olive, who did not need protection, as she often reminded him. But there was safety in numbers and he was one of only three people that could stop Dwight dead in his tracks. Law enforcement had filed the man under "deceased" and reporting him now would be nigh on impossible...

Ned clung to the hope that they would never have to. Dwight had two watches. The third belonged to Père Pie Maker, who was long gone...

"Digby is moping," Olive announced, breaking into his thoughts with an armful of beddings.

"Why?" Ned asked, standing to take them.

"He saw you and Pigby playing earlier..."

The Pie Maker sighed. "He knows I can't pet him. I would if I could but..."

The waitress regarded him for a while, before inquiring: "How old were you when he died?"

"Nine."

"Nine? Nine when you found out what you could do?" He nodded. "Oy..."

Ned could see her turning this over as she watched him, trying to find a question with which to pry open his more intimate memories... "How are your flowers?" he blurted out, desperate for a distraction.

"Hm? Oh. Immortal..." She smiled wryly and drifted over to the glass vase. He heaved a silent sigh of relief and went to turn on the television, hoping to hear something about Terry Marlowe and the Poppy Temple People...

But Ned had barely found a news channel before Olive turned it off. "Wha...?"

"TV is evil!" she blurted out. "It infiltrates the hearts and minds of its victims, making them dependent on it instead of friends or family. I mean...why watch a box when we could talk? How's your nose?"

"Sore," he said slowly. "But better...Olive, I haven't read or watched the news since the night Dwight crashed our party. Something important might have happened, somebody might have seen him..."

She waved this away. "Old lady wins the lottery, the weather gets weirder, politicians lie...nothing about a dead man walking. But hey, if you want the skinny on Dwight and the Deadly Dozen, Emerson has been looking into it."

"He has?"

"Uh, yeah. He can tell you everything you need to know! Let's go."

"Now?" Ned queried. "He might be asleep."

"Nah!" Olive replied. "Believe you me; Emerson Cod is wide awake and working..."

**XXX**

Emerson Cod was fast asleep and dreaming. Images flickered through his mind like multicolored moths...a little brown girl with thick black hair, a violet swing set, a blue sky creasing and crumpling, caving in on them both...and emerging from the wreckage was a man in red, shapeless and faceless and screaming-

_Ding dong!_ The PI jerked awake, reaching for his holster compulsively. Somewhere in the blurry, sleepy recesses of his mind he knew that intruders rarely ever rang the doorbell...

And sure enough, this home invasion came courtesy of Dough Boy and Itty Bitty.

Emerson growled and directed his gun at them, in order to convey just how inconvenient their visit was.

"_Told you so_," Dough Boy muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

Itty Bitty ignored him and forced a smile. "Heeeey, buddy. Can we come in?"

"This better be good," he said, stepping aside. "Or very bad."

They scurried inside and stood awkwardly as he locked the door.

"So this is your humble abode," Olive remarked, taking in the open plan apartment. "Neat!"

"Why, thank you. Would you like a tour?"

"Really?"

"No, not really! How the hell did you find me? I went to great lengths to avoid having people turn up uninvited."

Olive tapped the side of her nose, signing secrecy. "Tricks of the trade. Picked up from my Norwegian colleagues."

Emerson scoffed, ostensibly unimpressed. "State your business."

"Well, we-"

"_She-"_

"_He_ wanted to watch the news...to find out more about the Poppy Temple People. And I thought, why waste time on hearsay when he could hear it from...a more reliable source?"

Itty Bitty fixed him with a significant look and in that moment he understood. She was stalling; delaying the inevitable. Hoping the Pie Maker would be less upset about his trigger finger if he found out later. And he would find out. Killing twelve cult members by proxy had a way of coming back to haunt people...

Emerson glared at the pair, torn between a strange urge to protect them and a more familiar desire to punt them out. "_All right_," he snapped. "Sit."

Ned and Olive glanced at each other- neither entirely sure of what he was about to reveal- before obliging. Emerson dropped down into his favorite chair, thought for a moment...

"..._so,_" he said. "You want to know which one was a casualty o' random proximity." They nodded, leaning forward like bobsledders...

"It was Terry Marlowe. Just as we suspected. The others picked their poison. They believed some spectral star ship would ferry them back to their 'planet of origin' after they died. Marlowe knew it was nonsense. He planned to take all their earthly possessions, cash in and move on. He killed them. He didn't touch them but he killed them."

Ned stared down at his hands, as if they belonged to someone else. "Sounds familiar."

"Hey," Olive urged. "Don't go there. It's over."

He glanced at her, gratitude underlining his eyes, and tried to smile. "Thanks, Emerson."

"Yeah," she exhaled. "Thanks."

The PI sighed, annoyed at his own softening heart. "You're welcome. Now get the hell out and let me sleep!"

**A/N:**** Gleeks and non-Gleeks alike have probably heard that Glee star, Cory Monteith, died a few months ago (Cheno acted alongside him briefly in seasons one and two). You do not have to be a fan of the show to know how sad and senseless it is for a 31-year-old to die alone in his hotel room. Just wanted to say sorry for the loss of a great young guy. RIP, Cory.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Happy Year of the Horse! And thankee sai to all who continue to read and/or review :) This is a table-setting chapter, but hopefully you enjoy it anyway… **

**Chapter 11: Lost In Translation **

"Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world…"

Charlotte Charles beamed as a serveur set down three glasses. Across the little table sat Gwen and Gene, familiar but altered without their uniforms. In his black jacket and her white dress, the Formerly Lonely Tourist thought they looked like a debonair pair of wedding cake toppers…

"Are you staying here?" she asked.

"_Yeppers!_" Gwen answered. "We have a three-day layover."

"Okay, that warrants my most heartfelt _yay!_ Why this place, though? I mean it seems a little…economical."

Eugene grinned, catching her attempted tact. "Aether Airlines is facing cutbacks, so we had to settle for a hotel with fewer stars."

"_Quel dommage_. I would be sad for you if I wasn't so glad to see you."

He laughed aloud at that and she found herself noting his teeth. They were bright white, imperfect, reminding her of disproportionate Chiclets. She thought it a boyish sort of smile, the kind that caught on and inclined its recipients to return it in full…

"So how are you finding Paris?"

Chuck blinked, taking a moment to consider what she had seen thus far… "Spectacular. And strange. I feel like I landed on a different planet, except I read and heard enough about it to create this misplaced sense of déjà vu."

Gwen nodded knowingly. "Are you gonna see the sights soon?"

"As soon as possible. After being cooped up in one room we'll need all the space we can…" She trailed off as the pair frowned at each other. Something seemed to be bothering them. "_Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?_"

"…the three of you are sharing a room?"

Chuck blushed, silently cursing the wine that had loosened her tongue. She did not want these confident and accomplished confrères to pity or patronize them for being a tad thrifty at the moment. "Oh, it's no biggie. We haven't spent much time together and-"

Gwen waved away her assurance. "This is your first time here! It should be the _best_. Family vacays are cool and all but distance makes the heart grow fonder."

Gene nodded, adding: "We have two rooms. You could switch with us?"

"Aw, we couldn't…"

"Yeah you could!" said the flight attendant. "Really, we're barely there anyway."

"And if you want," said the pilot, "we'll show you a side of Paris you won't find with any tour guide."

At that he smiled wide, eyes offering some unknown promise. Chuck could not help but smile in kind. For a moment her mind was clouded by thoughts of rain-soaked streets glowing under lamplight, of hazy dance halls filled with music and laughter, of the city spread out before her bedroom window…

"_Oy_," she exhaled. Then, in the face of their expectant looks, she added: "I mean _oui!_"

Gwen and Gene cheered lightly, taking up their drinks at once.

"A toast," she demanded.

_"__To new adventures__,"_ he offered.

And with gusto, the trio raised their glasses… "_To new adventures!_"

**XXX**

Ned had never given much thought to the bedroom of Olive Snook. It was not a space he planned to inhabit and imagining anything in it seemed inappropriate, intrusive even. More so since his treacherous dream…

Thus, it was with great discomfort that the Pie Maker knocked on her boudoir door. Once, twice, thrice…each time so ridiculously quiet he was sure she could not–

"_Gosh darn it!_" Ned stumbled back, shoving his hands in his pockets as Olive emerged. "I overslept!"

"Must be the late nights," he quipped. "Sorry, I would've left you alone, but I kind of need my one and only employee."

"Gimme ten minutes! I'll be right down…"

She retreated into her room and he inadvertently noticed how very toile it was. Walls, curtains and beddings were all outfitted in the same swirling shade of green. It was not quite what he expected and he wondered why she chose it, before realizing that he was standing and staring instead of opening his shop…

Downstairs, several regulars waited at the doors, one tapping her watch to indicate that she did _not_ appreciate such delays on her way to work, _thank you very much_.

Among them was a walking sack of macaroni. Or rather, a man holding said sack, his hands flanking the Lil' Ivey's logo as his head appeared around it…

"_Ned._"

"_Randy!_"

But what the Pie Maker really wanted to say was "sorry". For monopolizing the heart of one Olive Snook, for hoping she would never leave, for wishing away this threat to their rapport, which tended to strain at the slightest hint of anything amorous…

Alas, there were customers to attend to, so he set about pacifying them with free caffeine.

Soon enough the waitress came down, wearing a yellowy pink dress that defied the weather outside.

"Never fear, your Pie Ho is nea-!"

Olive skidded to a halt at the sight of Randy, who approached the counter with shoulders hunched sheepishly. Ned could not resist the urge to ogle, as if they were a car crash occurring in slow-motion…

"_STOP!_"

He jumped, splattering even more coffee into the flooded cup of a patron.

"Oh! God – I am – _so_ sorry…" Ned mopped up the mess and silently reminded himself to mind his own business. When he returned to the counter Randy had disappeared and Olive stood waiting.

"Whoa, what happened there?"

He set down the cup and struggled to meet her eye. "I got distracted. What happened here?"

She looked askance, twirling a dishtowel with false indifference. "How d'ya mean?"

"I mean your former suitor just showed up bearing nonperishable gifts."

"Oh. That. _Heh_…" she exhaled humorlessly. "He's leaving. Gonna try life in the Mini Apple. He didn't want his foodstuffs to go to waste so…"

Ned nodded and stared down at his sneakers, hardly daring to feel relieved. She was withholding something, but he had already decided to not be nosy. Especially since his nose was nearly broken the last time he stuck it in unfinished business…

"Anywho! I better get Crankypants over there a fresh coffee. Stick to your day job, pie guy."

The Pie Maker tried to smile and set about organizing his worktop. At its base he noticed the pasta leaning against a corner. And at the back of the bag, sticking out ever so slightly, was a Post-it note…

Ned looked to Olive, who was buttering up customers with an ease and confidence he rarely ever felt. He hesitated for a moment, as his curiosity beat his better judgment into submission, before ducking out of sight to sneak a peek…

_If you ever need a change of scenery, come find me in Eden Prairie._

The Pie Maker rose, his heart sinking at the thought of what this note offered. Olive could leave. She would leave, as Emerson once warned, unless he gave her a reason to stay…

That day, Ned applied rolling pin to pastry with more force than was strictly necessary. By the time his first pecan pie alighted in the oven he had a plan. He was going to give Olive the incentive she needed. Even if that meant giving up part of the Pie Hole…

**XXX **

Emerson Cod was none too pleased with the Papen County police. They had a most unfortunate habit of arresting good guys and letting loose bad ones, as evidenced by the grave-robbing Schatz Brothers. Then there were the inadvertent kidnappers of Itty Bitty, and even the innocuous Ned, who once wound up in prison thanks to their ineptitude…

Therefore it came as no surprise when the officer on desk duty proved to be…uncooperative.

"The hell you mean _'no'_?"

"I mean private investigators are not allowed to access the National Criminal Information database."

"And why the hell not?"

"Hell if I know. They don't pay me to care."

Emerson glared hard and received a cold stare in return. "You Keystone Cops are gettin' on my last nerve," he grumbled, reaching into his coat for the Blue Berets snapshot. "See these three? They probably got about thirty years' worth of felonies between them. But the prosecutor barely had enough evidence to pin 'em down for ten. And as of last week they're all out on parole." The PI paused for dramatic effect, knowing full well that he was stretching the truth like a rubber band…

"So what do you want us to do about it?"

"Lemme take a gander at their records. If I know what they did in the past, I can figure out what they're lookin' to do in future."

At this the officer scoffed, ostensibly unimpressed. Emerson fixed him with a look that made it clear he would not willingly leave without something useful…

"Try the library."

"I beg your pardon?"

"They have computers, old newspapers. If these guys are as bad as you say, there has to be some word of them archived somewhere."

In the terse silence that followed, Emerson began to realize that he would not be getting what he needed. Not easily at least. The PI sighed and rolled his eyes, grunting something that sounded like thanks as he went…

The facts, so far, were these: someone somewhere had seen fit to clue him into the ties between Dwight Dixon, Charles Charles and Papa Pie Maker. Before departing for Paris, Vivian told him of the twenty-two years her former paramour spent in prison. Their dalliance did not last long enough for her to ask about the crime; a piece of information the PI considered vital to this puzzle. If he found out what Dwight did, it could lead to further revelations about the others. Or to a dead end. Either way, this was another day not spent thinking helplessly of Penny…

At the library, he sat hunched in front of a creaky computer, poring over obscure search results. There was no news of Dwight in Papen Country or Coeur d'Coeurs, so he turned to archives from different states, finding dozens of 'Dwight's along the way.

As the sun began to set and the library sank deeper into silence, his weary eyes came upon a Dwight Dixon of New York, sentenced to twenty-two years for second-degree murder.

The PI straightened in his seat and opened the page posthaste. Later on, he would remember how his heart heaved up at what he saw there, beating so frantically it might have been trying to escape…

**FORMER PEACEKEEPER FOUND GUILTY OF DOCTOR'S DEATH **

The victim pictured was 'Clancy Treadwell', but that could not be right. For the PI met him mere days before. This man had stood in his office, beady-eyed and broad-shouldered, with a white streak running through his hair…

The victim pictured was Godfrey Gillard.

**A/N: Dun dun duuuuun! **

**Updates coming sooner than later x **


End file.
